


Jam Basket 3: The Jammening

by kiranerys42



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Jam Basket Exchange, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Sex Toys, Thirsty Bottom Patrick Brewer, post-Olive Branch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22626496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranerys42/pseuds/kiranerys42
Summary: “Are you going to break out your collection of sex toys?”“Um.” David’s eyes widened. “Would you be—interested in that?”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 43
Kudos: 284





	Jam Basket 3: The Jammening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sullymygoodname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sullymygoodname/gifts).



> This was supposed to _only_ contain jam, but my brain decided that jam demanded a nice loaf of sourdough and some freshly-churned saltless butter to go with it, which is why it's about a week late and 10,000 words longer than anticipated.
> 
> Thank you to [this_is_not_nothing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_not_nothing) for reminding me how bodies work, and also for making me read [this article about the best mayonnaise brands](https://www.seriouseats.com/2013/08/taste-test-the-best-mayonnaise.html), which, shockingly, is actually relevant to this fic.

During the week between the barbecue and David’s “olive branch,” when David had...when David had needed some space, Patrick had been okay. Really, he’d been fine. Well, mostly fine. He’d gone to work, and only closed the store down for 20 minutes each afternoon so he could run over to the cafe to grab a sandwich for lunch, which he usually ended up scarfing down while standing up, hiding in the stockroom, not really tasting it. He’d taken some extra time before or after work most days to send David a gift. He’d started out by paying extra for one-day shipping on the bracelet he’d been planning to buy for their 6 month anniversary. Then he had to convince Stevie to deliver that bracelet on his behalf, which took a humbling amount of pleading and a very expensive bottle of wine. On the third day, in a fit of despair, he closed the store a half hour early so he could make it to the surprisingly decent chocolatier in Elmdale before they closed. 

What surprised him most was how he missed David _physically_. Not that what Patrick missed was sex; the sex was amazing, of course, but that wasn’t what he missed. It was just that not being able to see David, to give and receive those casual touches they usually traded throughout the day, to simply be _close_ to him, left Patrick feeling—incomplete. He felt like something was missing, like maybe a part of _himself_ was missing. He’d never felt like this before. He felt desperate, and he didn’t like it, because as much as he wanted David back, he knew that David didn’t owe him that. David didn’t owe him anything.

So after David’s “olive branch”—after his lip-syncing routine which was frankly both wild _and_ wired—Patrick was, of course, elated. He was thrilled, and relieved, and so, so happy to be back with David. And he was looking forward to reconnecting physically, too—and not just “connecting” in a euphemism-for-sex way. Patrick missed the small, simple things, like being able to hug David, and kiss him, and rest a hand on his hip when he squeezed past him to go back into the stockroom.

But Patrick quickly realized that just because they’d made up, that didn’t mean everything instantly went back to how it was before.

After David’s “olive branch,” they’d made out in the stockroom for a little while, and then David had reluctantly returned to the motel, because neither of them wanted to deal with what Ray would say if David came over that night. And the next day, it was—good. Things were good. David teased Patrick about his jersey knit button-up, and Patrick teased David about knowing what “jersey knit” was. But it was also—weird. Tentative. Their casual touches weren’t casual at all; instead they were cautious, and full of intent, as if neither of them were sure if their advances were welcome. Which was ridiculous, because of _course_ it was welcome. Patrick figured it was probably for the best that things didn’t get too out of hand, anyway; it was a busy day.

Patrick knew they still had things to talk about, but he wasn’t sure where to start. And when they closed the store that day, David had to go back to the motel immediately; apparently there was a “code red” wig emergency. (Patrick wasn’t clear on the ranking system for wig emergencies, but “code red” sounded pretty serious.) So for a second night, they didn’t get to _connect_. Not that _connecting_ was the most important thing they had to deal with. They needed to talk, too. But Patrick thought that maybe some quality alone time with David would help. For talking. And maybe other things, too.

After their third night spent apart, Patrick was desperate. 

“Do you want to—you could come over tonight?” Patrick asked as they were locking up the store at the end of the day. “I mean, Ray will be home. But you could still come over.”

“Um, maybe we could order pizza and go back to the motel for a bit?” David suggested. “Alexis is at, um—she’s at some, like, women in business event tonight, I don’t remember what it is. I don’t know what time she’ll be back, so we shouldn’t—I mean—if you even wanted to, that is. But we could just watch TV. Or something.”

“We shouldn’t have sex, you mean,” Patrick replied.

David pressed his lips together and nodded.

Patrick didn’t understand why David was being so evasive. Usually he was pretty forthright when it came to sex. In fact, David hadn’t been this uncomfortable talking about sex since—well, since they’d first started dating. When David hadn’t known what “going slow” meant, and he’d been worried about upsetting Patrick, or scaring him away. David had been so careful, back then; every touch and every kiss had been slow and deliberate, and when they’d talked about—things, David had always spoken slowly and haltingly, as if he didn’t want to say a single word he’d regret.

Patrick had really appreciated that, at the time. But now it felt out of place, because now things were different; now they could talk about things—about _sex_ —more openly. Or at least, they should _try_ to talk about things more openly, even when it was difficult. Perhaps especially when it was difficult. And not just sex, but everything else, too. Patrick had learned that the hard way.

“I wasn’t sure if—” Patrick began. He cleared his throat, then continued. “Um, if you’d be ready to do that yet. Since I didn’t tell you about Rachel, and—I wasn’t honest. I thought you might need some time before we, um, before we were intimate again.”

“Before—before we were _intimate_? Like we have _intimacy issues_?” David asked, his voice rising at the end of the sentence. “What are you, a relationship life coach going through a midlife crisis?”

“Okay, that was—maybe not the best choice of words,” Patrick admitted. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d want that yet. Or...again.”

“I don’t think you realize, um—how much that isn’t a problem. Because I definitely want you. Like that.” David licked his lips as he glanced down at Patrick’s mouth, and—wow, yeah, David definitely wanted him. “But I wasn’t sure if _you’d_ be ready!”

“Why wouldn’t I be ready? I was the one who wanted to get back together! I sent you all those gifts!”

“Yes, but, when we first started dating, you wanted to—take it slow. I thought that maybe—maybe we’d be back to, like, the beginning. And you’d want to take it slow again.”

“No, um, we can pick up right where we left off.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Patrick looked down at his hands, and discovered that he was holding a tube of chapstick and firmly twisting the cap in circles. He removed and replaced the cap with two satisfying _pops_ , then put the chapstick back in the display case. 

“Wait, what does that mean?” David asked. Patrick looked up to see David fidgeting nervously with his bracelet. “Like—where did we leave off, exactly?”

“David.” Patrick stepped forward and wrapped his arms around David’s waist, and—yes, this felt right; touching David, just because he wanted to, without worrying about whether it was okay. “All I mean is that we don’t have to take it slow.”

“Should we take it fast, then?” David asked. It sounded like he was teasing, but Patrick could tell there was something more serious there, too.

“Maybe. What would ‘taking it fast’ be, anyway?” Patrick wasn’t sure if he was entirely teasing, either. “Are you going to break out your collection of sex toys?”

“Um.” David’s eyes widened. “Would you be—interested in that?”

“Wait, you have sex toys? Like—dildos?”

“Um, yes? And some other things?”

“Like…?”

“I—well, I definitely have a few dildos. And other, uh, penetrative toys. And some non-penetrative toys, like—I have a few cock rings, and I think there’s a masturbation sleeve in the box somewhere, even though I don’t really like those. And, um—I guess I should mention the kinkier stuff too? Like, handcuffs and...other things. And there’s the stuff we can’t really use, like—I have this one glass G-spot toy, and obviously neither of us have a G-spot, and it really isn’t safe for anal play, so I guess I could get rid of it, but—it’s _really_ pretty? It’s, like, purple, and swirly, and it cost a _lot_ of money—”

“David,” Patrick interrupted. “I don’t even know what half that stuff is.” This wasn’t true, of course; Patrick wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t sheltered; he knew what dildos and handcuffs were. But it was a lot to take in, all at once, and he needed David to slow down.

“Oh.” David opened his mouth to continue, then closed it, as if he’d thought better of it. “Would you…” he began after a moment. “I mean, do you want me to tell you? Or, um, show you?”

“How about,” Patrick finally, _finally_ leaned in and kissed David, for the first time that day, “we talk about it later? After work?”

That evening, as Patrick and David settled in with their pizza, beer, and an American Pie DVD, Patrick realized his mistake: talking about it later meant that, now that “later” was here, he actually had to broach the topic again.

“So, uh,” Patrick cleared his throat as David fiddled with the DVD player. “Where do you... keep it?”

David looked up. “Huh?”

“You know. Your…uh...you said you had a collection.” Patrick could feel himself blushing, but he soldiered on. “Is it in a box in the closet, or something?”

“There’s no room in the closet. It’s actually—um—there’s two boxes. And they’re both under my bed.”

“You mean…” Patrick pointed straight down.

“Mmhm,” David said. He stared at Patrick for a moment, as if he was considering saying more, but he didn’t. Instead, he returned his attention to the DVD player. “Sorry, this thing is really finicky, you have to jam a screwdriver in it to make the play button work. This is such a pain, I still can’t believe Alexis somehow lost the remote.”

“Can you show me?” Patrick asked. He hoped he didn’t sound too desperate. He was just— _really_ curious.

“Show you...the DVD player?”

“No, your…” Patrick pointed under the bed again.

“Oh. _That._ Well, I don’t really remember what’s in there? So I should probably sort through it on my own before I let you see it.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows. “You’re telling me that you have so many sex toys, you don’t remember what all of them are?”

“It’s more like I haven’t used them in a long time,” David said. He was still determinedly fiddling with the DVD player, even though the movie was clearly queued up and ready to start. “It’s not like I have much privacy here.”

“Oh. Okay.” Patrick was still having a hard time believing that David, a man with nearly encyclopedic knowledge about his vast collection of designer sweaters, couldn’t remember exactly what sex toys he owned, but he decided to let it go for now. “Are you done fiddling with the DVD player? The pizza’s getting cold.”

Patrick hadn’t seen American Pie in years, so he didn’t remember much about it. But as they watched, it started coming back to him, and a few minutes into the film, Patrick noticed something.

“Hey, that guy looks kind of like—”

“Shh, I know; we don’t talk about that.”

“Um, okay.”

A few minutes later, as Alysson Hannigan appeared with a flute, Patrick remembered something else about the movie. 

“Doesn’t she end up using that flute to—”

“We don’t talk about _that_ , either.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows. “So do _you_ have a flute in your collection of—”

“I can’t believe I have to say this? But using a musical instrument as a sex toy is _incorrect_.”

Laughing, Patrick curled up next to David and rested his head on David’s chest. He tried to stay focused on the movie, but David was warm, and the sound of his heartbeat was almost meditative. It made Patrick want to close his eyes, so he did. Patrick could feel David’s breathing even out as he dozed off, and long before Alyson Hannigan actually mentioned the wildly incorrect use of her flute, Patrick was asleep, too.

Patrick woke up to the sound of Alexis’s voice.

“David! _David_!” She was speaking in a stage whisper, as if she was trying to maintain the illusion of speaking in a hushed tone while also speaking loudly enough to wake up her brother.

“Leave m’alone, m’sleeping,” David mumbled, rolling over and throwing one arm across Patrick.

“Oh my god, David, you could sleep through a _drug raid_ ; and believe me, the DEA is _not_ quiet when they’re breaking down your door. Can you _please_ wake up, though? Like, this whole ‘falling asleep with Patrick’ thing is adorable, but we have an _agreement_ about guests, and he needs to go.”

“It’s okay, Alexis,” Patrick said, his voice low and scratchy from sleeping. “I’ll head home.” He gently pushed David’s arm off his chest, then stood up to get his shoes.

“Oh, okay, I didn’t realize you were awake—I mean, it’s not that you’re unwelcome, it’s just that I don’t really want you here right now?”

“It’s fine, really.” Patrick sat down on the foot of the bed and began putting his shoes on. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

“Good, because I actually need to wash my hair, and—”

“Oh fuck, I didn’t do my skincare routine,” David interrupted. “Dibs on the bathroom,” he said as he bolted out of bed, and he made it halfway to the bathroom before he realized Patrick was still there. 

“I, um—” David paused, looking conflicted.

“Go ahead,” Patrick smiled. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Oh—okay.” David’s face was so soft and open; Patrick didn’t really understand why he needed to put so many products on it when he already looked perfect. Maybe the products contributed to the perfection? But Patrick was pretty sure that was how David would look no matter what.

David returned to the bed and leaned down to give Patrick a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you tomorrow,” he said, then disappeared into the bathroom to do mysterious and complicated things to his face.

“Well, good night, Alexis.” Patrick stood up to leave.

“Wait, I wanted to—like—talk to you? About something?”

Patrick blinked. He had no idea what Alexis would want to talk to him about.

“Is it—do you want more of the lip balm? Because we _really_ can’t afford to give you any more, or even sell it at a discount, really—”

“Oh, no no no, this isn’t about anything at the store—well—except it kind of is, because it’s about David? Well, really it’s about _you_. But also kind of about David.”

Patrick just stared at her.

“So, your fiancée—well, your _ex_ -fiancée—is that even a thing? Whatever. _Rachel_ ,” Alexis said, “she was, like, super cute.”

“Um. Thanks?” Was that a compliment? It sounded like a compliment for Rachel, at least. Patrick didn’t know if he was allowed to accept a compliment on behalf of his ex-fiancée. 

“But she seemed, like, pretty unclear on—well. On whether she was really your _ex_ -fiancée, you know? Since she had to drive all the way out here to track you down and confirm it.”

“Alexis, you know I don’t—”

“And so I just wanted to make sure that, whatever’s going on with you and David,” Alexis continued, “that you make it _really clear_ to him what it is. Whatever it is. I don’t really care what it is, it’s not any of my business,” Alexis flipped her hair back over her shoulder, “but—I’ve never seen David this happy in a relationship before? Or just, this happy at all. And I don’t want to see him get hurt again, because he was, like, _impossible_ to deal with last week.”

Patrick knew what this was, now. Alexis was trying to protect David. She was—threatening him, almost. This was the kind of thing Patrick had expected to get from Rachel’s dad, back when he was sixteen and then went on their first date. Of course, that hadn’t happened, because Rachel’s dad was not a great dad. Not that taking the time to threaten Patrick would have made him a good dad, but it would’ve at least made him more involved.

“I promise I—well. I can’t promise I won’t hurt him,” Patrick said. “But I can promise I’ll be honest with him. And that if I hurt him, I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

Alexis stared at him for a long moment, then with a _hmph_ , she turned and flounced over to her bed. 

Patrick waited a moment to see if Alexis had anything more to say, but she’d already taken out her phone. “Good night, Alexis,” Patrick said. Alexis didn’t respond, so he went to leave.

“Oh—good night,” Alexis said just as Patrick was stepping through the door.

Of course Patrick had known that David was upset about what happened with Rachel. But as he drove home, he realized that maybe he’d been so distracted by his own feelings that he’d underestimated just how deeply he’d hurt David. If things were bad enough that Alexis needed to intervene, they definitely needed to talk some more.

* * *

Patrick knew that if he put it off, he might never actually get around to talking to David. So as soon as he saw David approaching the store the following morning, Patrick practically sprinted from where he’d been working on his laptop at the cash to greet him at the at the door with a smile and a lingering kiss, not even giving David time to set down his coffee.

“Um, wow, okay. Good morning to you, too,” David said when Patrick finally pulled away. “Not that I’m complaining, but what prompted this enthusiastic greeting?”

“Oh, we take our customer service very seriously here at Rose Apothecary.”

“Mm, so does that mean you greet _everyone_ who comes through the door this way?” David raised his eyebrows and sipped his coffee. 

Patrick knew they were just teasing each other. But this wasn’t the direction he’d intended things to go.

“No, only you,” Patrick said quietly, and he wrapped his arms around David, pulling him closer. “David, you know I’m serious about this, right? About you. About _us_.”

“Oh—okay.”

“And I wanted to be really clear. That I’m sorry about what happened. I should have told you, about—Rachel, and all of that, but—things were so good, with you. I didn’t want to talk about my past, because it didn’t seem like it mattered anymore. But I think we need to. _I_ need to, you know. Talk about things.”

“Mmhm, yes, definitely. We can talk any time you like. Except maybe not _right now_ , before I’ve even had a chance to finish my coffee?” David took another sip of his coffee for emphasis, the cup bumping into Patrick’s cheek because of how close they were.

Patrick laughed. “Okay, David. That’s pretty much it, though.” Patrick pressed a kiss to David’s cheek before pulling away and heading back to the cash. David followed him, sipping his coffee and watching over Patrick’s shoulder as he opened their inventory spreadsheet.

“What prompted this, anyway?” David asked.

“Oh, it’s just—something Alexis said to me last night.”

“Oh my _god_ , what did Alexis say?”

“It was—it’s nothing, really,” Patrick said. “She just seemed to think that I should talk to you.”

“Why does _Alexis_ think she has _any_ right to—” David cut himself off with an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. “Alexis needs to mind her own business.”

“I don’t mind, really. She’s just looking out for you.”

David sighed. “It’s not just about that. She also told my parents that we’re—you know. Back together.”

Patrick looked up from his laptop. “That’s a good thing, right? It’s not exactly, um—a secret, or anything.”

“Oh, no, it’s not—it’s definitely not a secret. But now that they know, they want to have a barbecue again,” David said in a rush. “I mean, not a _barbecue_ , because it’s too cold for that now; honestly, it was too cold last time, I don’t know what they were thinking. But they want to…” David trailed off.

“They want to have a family dinner with their son’s boyfriend that isn’t interrupted by the boyfriend’s ex-fiancée,” Patrick supplied.

David winced. “I mean, yes.”

Then Patrick realized what he’d just said. “Um—are we using that word again, now?”

David suppressed a smile. “I don’t know,” he said. “Why don’t you ask my boyfriend?”

“Well then.” Patrick closed his laptop, because he clearly wasn’t going to be getting any work done for at least the next few minutes, and he wanted to save the battery. “Your _boyfriend_ would love to have a second chance at a Rose family dinner. Maybe we could all go out to that new Italian place in Elmdale?”

“At least you won’t end up cooking this time.” 

“I don’t know, I’m sure the kitchen at Casa di Pasta would be happy to let me help them out.”

“I mean, that might be a good way to—you know. Avoid the whole ordeal.”

“David,” Patrick said. “Spending time with your family isn’t an ordeal.”

“Are you sure, though?” David asked. “Because I often find them to be—um—difficult. Trying. At least a partial ordeal.”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, you and your family are a package deal,” Patrick said.

“Um, you’re not in a _relationship_ with my family.”

“Maybe it’s just a different type of relationship.”

“I mean—you’re not _dating_ them. At least. I hope you’re not. There was that one time—um. But Alexis and I don’t talk about that.”

“Well, your dad does look pretty good in a suit…”

“Oh my god.” David reached past Patrick to open his laptop. “Weren’t you doing inventory, or something?”

“Quarterly report,” Patrick replied. 

“Okay, that’s...fascinating, please tell me more, like, uh, what is this column for?”

Patrick couldn’t help but smile at David’s attempt to change the subject. “Well, that column’s for our net income. The really interesting part is over here, though; that’s our inventory discrepancies…”

Patrick spent the next half hour trying to convince David they couldn’t afford to let Alexis steal lip balm any more. In the end they compromised; David would start paying full price for wine to make up for Alexis’s lip balm theft.

* * *

Later that day, during the mid-afternoon lull after everyone’s lunch break and before school and work let out, Patrick took out his phone and began… well, researching. He just wanted to have an idea of what David might—what he might see when David showed him his, well. His collection. And although Patrick didn’t want to admit it to himself, he had a wild idea that maybe—just maybe—he might want to start his own collection. Not that there was anything wrong with David’s. Or at least, he assumed there wasn’t anything wrong with David’s. Technically, he had no way of knowing, because he hadn’t seen it yet. 

Patrick was surreptitiously scrolling through a very sketchy-looking website’s selection of sex toys—some of which were _very_ disturbing, like the “easy start penis enlarger” and the “doggie pussy and ass”—when he felt David’s warm presence behind his back. Patrick quickly tried to hide his phone under the counter, or hit the “home” button, or _anything_ to keep David from seeing, but it was too late.

“Oh my god, what are you _looking_ at?” David exclaimed, grabbing Patrick’s phone out of his hands. “I mean—” David paused, glancing down at the phone, then looking back up sheepishly. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—just grabbed it like that. Do you want…?” He held his hand out to offer Patrick’s phone back.

“No, you might as well look,” Patrick sighed. “I was just—curious. About what you might have in your, um, your collection. Of toys.”

“Okay, I can _guarantee_ you that I do not own a single item this website sells. What did you do, just Google ‘sex toys’ and click the first result?”

“Um—” That was almost exactly what Patrick had done. “I did add ‘for men.’”

David shook his head and handed Patrick’s phone back. “It’s actually a good idea for you to get your own—whatever it is you want.” David furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you want, anyway? I mean, what are you—interested in?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you seem intrigued by toys in general, but we haven’t really talked about—what you want? Like, do you want something penetrative? A cock ring? Um—restraints?”

Patrick had not actually thought about what he wanted. “What if those all sound good?”

“Okay, but you realize I meant—like—” David stuttered. “For you. I meant something that _you’d_ use.”

“I—yeah. That all sounds good.”

“So you want me to—um. Tie you up, and...” 

“Put a butt plug in me, yes.”

“Oh...okay.”

“I mean, not necessarily all at once,” Patrick continued. “Maybe one thing at a time, at least at first. So I can try it all out.”

“Mmhm.”

“You know. See what I like.”

“That’s—” David licked his lips. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“You know what else sounds like a good plan,” Patrick murmured, “is for you to finally show me your mysterious box of sex toys.” Patrick leaned forward and kissed David soundly, first cupping David’s face in his hands, then wrapping his arms around him to pull him closer. Just as the kiss was starting to get a bit more passionate than Patrick usually allowed while they were at work—possibly even more passionate than any kiss they’d had a chance to share since they’d gotten back together—David pulled away.

“It’s not— _mysterious_ , you know,” he said defensively. “It’s not like I’m trying to keep it from you. We just haven’t had much privacy lately.”

“I know,” Patrick said. “I’m working on it.”

Patrick really had been working on it, and later that night, he texted David the good news.

 **Patrick** : Success! Ray will be out of town tomorrow night. 🍆

 **David** : oh my god

 **Patrick** : What, do you have a problem with my emoji choice? 🍑

 **David** : please stop

 **Patrick** : 🍍🍎🍉 Come on, what’s wrong with fruit emoji?

 **David** : you’re impossible

 **David** : ❤️

* * *

The next day after closing the store, Patrick drove them both back to Ray’s. But first, he stopped by the motel so that David could get his _things_.

“Thank god Alexis isn’t home,” David said as he got in the car. On his lap he held a black, medium-sized, utterly nondescript box. Patrick wasn’t sure what he’d expected—a giant label that said “sex toys”? He felt silly for being surprised by how ordinary the box looked.

“Wait, didn’t you say you had two boxes?”

“Yes, but—um, I reorganized, last week. We don’t really—the other stuff, you wouldn’t be interested in.”

“Isn’t that for me to decide?”

“I mean, yes, I just—really don’t think you’d like that stuff.”

“If you like it, I want to try it.”

David didn’t respond to that. Patrick really wanted to glance over and see the look on his face, but he couldn’t because he was driving. Finally he reached a stop sign, and took the chance to look at David, who was wringing his hands and twisting his face in several directions at once.

“You know you’re not going to scare me away with—whips and chains, or whatever, right?” Patrick said.

“Um, first of all, I’m not into impact play; second of all, chains are _terrible_ restraints.”

“Oh...okay,” Patrick said.

“Anyway. It’s not that, it’s—” David broke off, sounding frustrated.

Patrick had to look back at the road to keep driving. He couldn’t understand why David wouldn’t want to share something he enjoyed, something he—

Oh.

“You don’t actually like all of it, do you? I mean,” Patrick cleared his throat, “that’s why you don’t want to show some of your, um, toys to me. Because—some of them, they’re not something _you_ like.”

Patrick risked a quick glance over at David, who nodded.

“Why do you own sex toys you don’t like?”

“Um, well, some of them were—gifts, or things I tried once, or something I used with—with a partner who was into them.”

“Okay, but, why do you _still_ have them? Why would you keep something if it didn’t work for you? I mean—do you keep sweaters you don’t like?”

“Um, that’s completely different, though. Like, I would never buy any Isaac Mizrahi _now_ , but that doesn’t mean I’m going to get rid of what I already have, you know?”

Patrick did not know. “Okay, forget about the sweaters. But still—why do you still have sex toys you don’t like?”

“When they took away all my—all our money,” David said, “they also took all our _things_ , except they didn’t exactly go digging around under my bed looking for high-end sex toys to confiscate. So when I moved here, the only things I had from before were my clothes, and…”

“And your sex toys,” Patrick offered.

“Yes,” David said quietly.

Patrick parked the car and turned the ignition off.

“That...makes sense.”

“It does?”

“Yeah.” Patrick rested a hand on David’s thigh. “It does.”

* * *

“So,” Patrick asked, sitting down on the bed and eyeing the box. “Can I open it? Or should you do the honors?”

“Oh,” David said from across the room, where he was unpacking his overnight bag onto the dresser and carefully re-folding his clothes. “Um—sure. Go ahead.”

Patrick hesitated for a moment, but he couldn’t wait any longer. So he opened the box, and—it was weirdly anti-climactic; Patrick expected sex toys, and there, in the box, he saw sex toys. They looked much nicer than the ones he’d seen on that sketchy website the other day; smoother, sleeker, and in a less garish colour palette. Carefully, he unpacked the toys one by one and arranged them on the bed. A couple butt plugs; dildos in various shapes, sizes, and materials; a cock ring; some nice leather handcuffs attached to a strappy apparatus which confused Patrick until he realized it must be some sort of under-bed restraint system; and—

“What’s this?” Patrick asked, holding up what looked kind of like a miniature pizza cutter with spikes. 

“Oh, that’s a Wartenberg wheel, it’s actually a medical device for, like, testing nerve reactions?”

“That sounds...not at all sexy.”

David laughed at that. “You’d be surprised.” He zipped his overnight bag back up and joined Patrick on the bed. “See anything you like?”

“Well, since I don’t really know—um—what I want, just yet, I thought maybe tonight should be more about what _you_ like. So. What’s your favorite thing here?”

“I don’t—have a favorite, really? I like everything here.” David twisted his mouth sheepishly. “Like I said earlier, this is a curated selection. Just for us.”

“Okay, well, what are you in the mood for tonight?” Patrick asked.

David considered the selection in front of him for a moment, then picked up a dildo. It was silicone, and slightly curved, with the all-important flared base David had lectured him about for at least five minutes the other day. The color looked like it was supposed to at least vaguely resemble a realistic skin tone, and it _was_ pretty realistic; it even looked like it was circumcised, which led Patrick down a momentary thought spiral about why it even _mattered_ whether a dildo was circumcised or not. The main thing Patrick noticed, though, was the size.

“Hm,” Patrick said thoughtfully. “That’s...pretty big.”

“Yeah,” David said. “I...I like that.”

Patrick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He thought about getting David ready for it; fingering him, getting him nice and wet and open, and then—

“Um,” Patrick said, “don’t take this the wrong way—it’s not like I’m, uh, intimidated or anything, but—what do you like about this that you can’t get from, you know, the real thing?”

David’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, that’s easy. With this, I can suck your cock while you fuck me.”

“Oh,” Patrick said. He hadn’t thought of that. He hadn’t really thought of anything beyond how it would look to see the toy disappear inside David; how he’d feel, knowing that he was the one fucking David with it; the sounds that David would make as he…well. “Wouldn’t that be distracting?”

“For you, or for me?”

Patrick shrugged. “Both?”

David grinned. “Mmhm. That’s the fun part.” But then David’s grin faltered. “Unless—does that sound fun to you?”

“I—yeah,” Patrick said. “Let’s try it.”

David put the rest of the toys back in the box and set the box on the floor, and Patrick began taking his shirt off; then David got distracted by Patrick’s shirtlessness, until Patrick pushed him away long enough for David to start taking his clothes off. Then Patrick got distracted by the sight of _David_ without his shirt on, and they spent several long minutes making out and touching every inch of bare skin they could reach before finally removing the rest of their clothes and getting settled on the bed with the lube, the dildo, and a towel for easy clean-up.

“So, how should we—”

“Um, if you’ll just—” David gently pushed Patrick to turn around until they were both lying on their sides in a 69 position. “Yeah, like that.”

Patrick shifted a bit, getting settled in, then reached for the lube and thoroughly coated his fingers before sliding one gently but firmly inside David.

This part was familiar, and Patrick loved this part—the closeness and intimacy of it, as well as the quiet grunt David let out as Patrick began fingering him. The angle was different than usual, and it was a little awkward at first, but slowly but surely, Patrick worked David open. As Patrick added a second finger, he heard David mutter “oh, yeah, that’s—” David cut himself off as he leaned forward and took Patrick’s cock in his mouth.

Patrick let out a grunt as he involuntarily thrust his hips forward. He immediately shifted his focus towards restraining himself from fucking into David’s mouth, and he wasn’t sure how much time passed before he realized that he’d stopped moving his fingers, which were still buried deep inside David.

“Sorry,” Patrick gasped, “I—that’s _really_ distracting.”

“Mm,” David hummed. Then he ran a hand up Patrick’s thigh and cupped his balls, and—fuck, David hadn’t touched him in _weeks_ , and Patrick was close already.

“Fuck, that’s—” Patrick rested his head on David’s thigh. “David. I need you to slow down. I want to—we had a _plan_.”

David reluctantly pulled his mouth off of Patrick with a wet _pop_ and pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock. “Mmkay, we’ll stick to the plan.” David grabbed the dildo and handed it to Patrick.

“Are you—are you ready?” Patrick asked as he opened the bottle of lube back up with a _click_. 

“Yeah, just—more lube,” David said, but Patrick was already on it. He was using a _lot_ of lube, probably too much; but Patrick figured it was better safe than sorry. David propped one of his legs up, and once the dildo was completely covered in lube, Patrick pressed it to David’s hole and slowly began to push it inside him.

“Is that—”

“Mmhm, yeah, just—” Patrick could hear David breathing heavily, and he heard him let out a little whimper; normally Patrick liked to see David’s face when he fucked him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from the sight of the dildo gradually disappearing inside of David. Patrick didn’t really get to see David like this unless he was fingering him, and his fingers were—not this big. And David was taking it so, _so_ well, and—

It was at that moment, when the toy was about two-thirds of the way in, when David took Patrick in his mouth again. 

Patrick closed his eyes and let out a sound that made him _very glad_ Ray wasn’t home right now. David wrapped a hand around the base of Patrick’s cock and began stroking him slowly. At first David only licked teasingly at the tip, but gradually he took more of Patrick’s cock into his mouth and worked up to a steady rhythm.

Patrick didn’t understand how David could be sucking his cock this well right now, while he was getting fucked by—well, not really getting fucked, exactly; Patrick hadn’t managed to move since David had begun sucking his cock again. Hell, he hadn’t even touched David’s cock yet. With effort, Patrick managed to open his eyes and take in the sight in front of him. David’s cock was mostly hard, and dripping a little bit of precome; Patrick really wanted to lick it, but he wasn’t sure if he could manage that level of multitasking at the moment. Patrick’s hand was still on the dildo, which wasn’t quite all the way inside David; the part of the base that was still visible was glistening with lube. 

Taking a deep breath and trying very hard to ignore everything happening below his waist, Patrick managed to slowly pull the dildo out and push it back into David. That first thrust only seemed to encourage David, and he began taking Patrick’s cock even deeper, moaning as Patrick’s cock bumped against the back of his throat. 

Fucking hell. Patrick resolved to forget he even _had_ a dick. He turned his attention to David’s dick instead, bending his head forward slightly to lick at the tip of David’s cock. David, however, was not making it easy for Patrick to forget about his own cock. There were too many things happening, and Patrick couldn’t focus on all of them at once—how could he think about thrusting the dildo into David, and sucking David’s cock, and remembering to do that thing with his tongue that David really liked, all while David was—doing _that_ —

“David,” Patrick gasped and rolled onto his back, but was careful to keep one hand on the dildo inside of David. “This—this isn’t working for me.”

“Are you sure? I mean—it’s—” David stuttered. “It’s fine if you don’t like it. I just—you seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

“That’s the problem,” Patrick said. “I can’t _focus_ while you’re—” Patrick gestured weakly at his groin.

David furrowed his eyebrows and bit his lip. His lips were swollen and wet, his cheeks flushed, his hair a mess. He looked absolutely gorgeous.

Then the line between David’s eyebrows disappeared and he nodded curtly. “Let’s try it like this,” David said, and before Patrick quite knew what was happening, David had pushed Patrick onto his back and swung a leg over Patrick to straddle him, his legs bracketing Patrick’s head. “Just—hold on, okay? I’ll do all the work.”

“Oh—okay,” Patrick stuttered, carefully adjusting his grip on the dildo. He felt David’s mouth envelop his dick as David began moving his hips, fucking himself on the toy. Patrick lifted his free hand to touch David’s thigh, which felt thick and strong under his hand as David slowly raised and lowered his hips. Then David _moaned_ around Patrick’s cock, and Patrick thought about how David must feel, or rather, how he’d feel in David’s place; how it would feel if _he_ was the one with _David’s_ cock in his mouth, and David’s—other, silicone cock—in his ass; getting fucked from both ends, taking it as deep and as hard as he could—

This wasn’t going to last very long.

“David,” Patrick gasped, “I’m—close—”

Patrick wasn’t sure if David’s “mmhm” was an actual response or just another moan of contentment, because David was making an awful lot of noise. Patrick was pretty sure he was being loud, too, but he wasn’t really paying attention to his own body beyond the blissful sensation of David’s mouth on his cock; his brain was stuck in a feedback loop of arousal fueled by how much David was obviously enjoying himself. In the back of his mind, Patrick was grateful that he didn’t need to think about moving or doing anything in this position, because just restraining himself from thrusting up into David’s mouth and accidentally choking him was taking most of his willpower. 

Then Patrick’s willpower decided to take a break, and without meaning to, his hips twitched up slightly.

“Fuck, sorry, I—” Patrick began. “ _Fuck_ ,” he repeated, but for an entirely different reason this time. David had deep-throated Patrick a few times before, so he knew what it felt like, but it still came as a shock. It also usually made Patrick come very, very quickly, and this time was no exception. 

Patrick closed his eyes as he came, and his world narrowed down to the sensation of—of David _swallowing_ around his dick, which was a sensation Patrick was sure he’d never get used to. As Patrick gradually came back to his senses, it occurred to him that he hoped he’d kept his hips still as he’d come; that he hadn’t actually choked David or anything. But David seemed to be alright; he was still gentling sucking and licking at Patrick’s oversensitive cock, and he was—Patrick opened his eyes to confirm what he’d already felt—he was still moving his hips up and down, riding the dildo in Patrick’s hand. Patrick heard David let out a small whimper as he moved his hips in a bit of a circle, trying to find just the right angle, and something in Patrick snapped. Patrick needed to get his hands on David, _now_. No—he needed to get his _mouth_ on him.

“Can I—” Patrick asked, pulling the dildo halfway out. 

“Mmm,” David whined around Patrick’s cock, and thrust his hips down, chasing the dildo as Patrick slowly pulled it out.

“Just for a moment,” Patrick said, carefully removing the toy the rest of the way. “I want to—I need—” Patrick pulled David’s hips down until David was almost sitting on his face. “I’ll fuck you more later,” he promised, and then began licking David’s hole.

Patrick lost himself in the joy of rimming David—that meditative, laser-focused state of mind where he thought of nothing but using his mouth and tongue to make David feel as good as possible, to get David to make as many of those intoxicating _sounds_ as possible. David still had his mouth on Patrick’s softening dick, which wasn’t exactly a _problem_ , but it was distracting, especially when David let out a particularly desperate moan and Patrick felt it vibrate his oversensitive cock. But Patrick didn’t mind; he just ran his hands soothingly along David’s thighs to grip David’s ass and pulled him even closer.

Gently and oh-so-carefully, David finally took his mouth off Patrick and rested his head on Patrick's thigh. “Patrick,” David gasped, “I can't—I'm getting tired,” he continued, and that's when Patrick realized just how long David had been kneeling above him like this; of course he was tired. 

“Yeah,” Patrick agreed as he reluctantly pulled away, “let's—can you lay down?”

David moved slowly, his legs shaking slightly as he rolled over onto his back next to Patrick. Patrick sat up, shifting a bit so he could see David's face, and David looked gorgeous; his eyes wide, his face flushed, his hair a complete mess. But he also looked smug, a little bit, and he was smiling—no, he was _smirking_. Although, considering what they'd just done—what _David_ had just done—he'd earned the right to be a little smug. 

But the competitive part of Patrick still wanted to wipe that smirk right off David's face. _Patrick_ wanted to be the one smirking. 

Patrick groped around the bed until he found the dildo and the bottle of lube. “Can we try this again?” he asked, but he was already pouring some lube into his hands and rubbing them together to warm it up, so—he really hoped David’s answer was yes.

“We don’t—you don’t have to,” David said, eyeing the dildo hungrily. 

“Oh, I know I don’t have to. I want to, though.” Patrick picked up the dildo and stroked it to make sure it was properly lubricated. He wasn’t really thinking about how it looked, but David raised his eyebrows and stared pointedly at Patrick’s hands, so Patrick looked down, and—yeah, there really wasn’t a way to make it look like he was doing anything except giving a very large silicone dick a handjob. 

Patrick decided he might as well lean into it, so he slowed down a bit, twisting his hand a bit at the tip just like he did when he jerked David off. “I mean,” Patrick said with a sly smile, “you could just keep watching me do this, if you’d like.”

“Mmkay, this is actually kind of working for me, but I think it would work even better if you put that thing inside me.”

“Well, you know me; I’m always open to constructive criticism,” Patrick joked as he reached between David’s legs and lined the toy up with David’s hole. 

“Except when it comes to the color aesthetic of your spreadsheets, or— _unf_ , fuck, Patrick, that’s—yeah, like that.”

This time around, Patrick didn’t go quite so slowly when he pushed the dildo into David. He pushed it all the way in, and then began to set up a nice, slow rhythm.

“When it comes to making you feel good,” Patrick said, “I’m _always_ open to constructive criticism.”

“Mm. Well—keep doing—yeah, that. Keep doing that.”

Patrick laughed. “Okay, David.”

David’s encouragement was—good, but “keep doing that” wasn’t very specific when Patrick still wasn’t even sure _what_ he was doing. Patrick tried to think about how he usually fucked David and mimic that, but everything about this was so different that it wasn’t really helping. At least now Patrick was able to focus enough to also take hold of David’s cock. Patrick’s hand was still slick with lube, and David thrust his hips up into Patrick’s hand as Patrick took hold of him.

“Is that—does that feel good?”

“Mmhm, Patrick; it’s really good.”

“How—how do you like it? Should I go faster? Slower?”

“Mm, can you go—harder, but slower? And—deep, but don’t—”

Patrick watched the expression on David’s face change as he complied with David’s instructions. David’s eyes fell closed, and his mouth fell open. Patrick wished he could kiss David, but he couldn’t quite reach from this position, not without changing how he was fucking David, and he definitely didn’t want to do that.

“Don’t what?” Patrick prompted.

“Don’t—” David panted, catching his breath. “Don’t pull out too far? Keep it—unf, yeah, like that.”

Patrick watched the look of pleasure on David’s face intently, making slight adjustments in response to David’s reactions—tightening his grip on David’s cock, thrusting into him just a little bit harder.

“You look so good like this,” Patrick blurted out, “you’re—fuck, you’re beautiful, I—I want to see you come; are you close, David? Are you gonna come for me?”

“Mm, I’m—yeah, I’m close,” David replied, “I—I just—” David grabbed his thighs and pulled his legs up and out. “Yeah, like that,” he panted. “Just like that, Patrick, I—”

The look of complete bliss on David’s face as he came was breathtaking. Patrick hadn’t known, before David, that making another person feel this good could make _Patrick_ feel this way. It was a sense of joy and accomplishment, a bit like the feeling he got when he performed a song or when his team won a baseball game—only better, and somehow infinitely more important.

Patrick lay down next to David, and finally, he kissed him.

“So,” Patrick asked once he’d finished thoroughly kissing David. “My turn next time?”

“About that—” David winced slightly as he pushed himself up and gingerly adjusted how he was sitting. “I was thinking we should get something—for you? Like, specifically for you?”

“You’re trying to tell me that you have two entire boxes full of sex toys, and not a single one you think I’d enjoy?”

“Um—not exactly. Well, kind of. I think you’d like a prostate massager? And I don’t have any, because they’re—not my favourite, actually. Besides,” David smiled as he rested a hand on Patrick’s thigh, “it might be nice to have something that’s—yours.”

“Well, you’re the expert,” Patrick said. Then he realized how that might sound. “I mean—you have more experience with, um, this sort of thing, which is fine, it’s—”

“Patrick,” David interrupted. “I know. I get it. But also, I’m—not the expert? Because _you’re_ actually the expert on your body. So I need you to tell me; what you like, what you don’t like, um—what works for you. And what doesn’t.”

“You work for me,” Patrick replied. “I like you.”

“Okay, that’s very flattering, but—you know what I mean.” 

“I know,” Patrick said. “I promise I’ll tell you if I, um, don’t like something.”

David smirked. “You can tell me if you _do_ like something, too.”

“Oh, I have your permission to tell you if I’m enjoying myself? That’s very generous of you, David.”

“I’m a very generous person,” David said, his smirk widening into a grin. How else could Patrick respond to a face like that but to kiss him some more? 

“Okay,” David said, pulling away from the kiss. “I _really_ need to go clean up.”

“Mm,” Patrick agreed. He watched intently as David dug around in the dresser for a pair of sweatpants, because Patrick didn’t want to miss a single moment of admiring David’s naked body. Once David pulled on the sweatpants, Patrick flopped back down on the bed. “Wake me up when you’re done,” he asked.

“Rude,” David replied.

* * *

A while later, they’d both showered, changed, and settled into bed. Patrick curled up behind David and stuck his arm up David’s t-shirt to maximize skin-on-skin contact, which he was only able to get away with because this was technically _Patrick’s_ shirt, not David’s—except that David wore it almost every time he slept over, and Patrick hadn’t worn it in months, so as far as Patrick was concerned, it was David’s shirt now. Patrick was just about to doze off when he heard the faint _buzz_ of a cell phone vibrating on his nightstand behind him.

“Mm, is that…?” David asked sleepily.

“S’nothing, can wait ‘til morning,” Patrick said.

The phone buzzed again.

“Pass me my phone?” David sounded slightly more awake.

“It might be my phone,” Patrick argued.

“No, it’s—they sound different; my case is more plasticky than yours.”

The phone buzzed once more.

“Fine, I’ll get it,” David said, trying to roll over. But Patrick refused to budge from where he was comfortably snuggled up behind David, so David didn’t get very far.

“Uh-uh, you stay there.” Patrick reluctantly removed his arm from David’s shirt and reached back towards the nightstand, groping around for his phone. There was a dull _thud_ as something fell to the floor.

“I think that was just the alarm clock,” Patrick said quickly. “There—” he said, finally grasping something that felt vaguely phone-sized and passing it to David.

“You couldn’t have rolled over to do that?” David asked.

“Nope,” Patrick said cheerfully. It took him a moment to get settled back in, and it was harder this time, now that David was holding his phone; but soon enough, all was as it should be, with his arm up David’s shirt and their legs tangled together under the sheets.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” David said under his breath.

“What is it?” Patrick muttered into the back of David’s neck.

“Alexis says my parents made reservations for us all to go to Casa di Pasta tomorrow at 7pm.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“Well, apparently she has to attend an actual in-person class at Elmdale College tomorrow night, so she can’t go.”

“I’m still not seeing the problem.”

“She’ll have the car! So you’ll have to drive us there!”

“David,” Patrick said. “It’ll be fine. It’s just dinner. I’m looking forward to it.”

David grumbled something in response, but it was too quiet for Patrick to hear.

* * *

The next evening at the motel, all four of them piled into Patrick’s car for the drive to Elmdale. Moira was oddly silent for the drive there, but Johnny managed to fill the silence by asking a series of questions about Patrick’s car, which was genuinely impressive; Patrick didn’t know it was possible to have a 20-minute conversation about a car as boring as a 2010 Toyota Corolla.

Patrick parked about a block away, and they’d almost finished walking to the restaurant when Moira came to a sudden stop and let out a dramatic sigh.

“What is it, Moira?” Johnny asked.

“I seem to have left my handbag in the vehicle,” Moira said.

David sighed with exasperation. “We’re already running late; our reservation is at 7pm. Do you really need your purse, mom? It’s not like you’re paying.”

“Mrs. Rose, I can give you my keys if you want to go back,” Patrick offered.

“Oh, thank you Patrick, that would be lovely,” Moira said. She reached towards Patrick’s proffered hand with the keys in it… then reached past his hand and looped her arm around his. “We’ll be right back! Be sure to save me a seat with its back to a wall.”

“Um—” Patrick followed Moira down the street, keys jangling awkwardly in his hand. 

“Patrick, this is very convenient; I’ve been meaning to converse with you, actually.”

“Is this about that new shampoo at the store that you said you want to try? Because—”

“Oh, most certainly not! This is about David.”

Patrick finally managed to disentangle his arm and put his keys back in his pocket. “David?” he repeated.

“Yes, David. Well, and John; and you.”

“Oh—okay.”

“And that darling girl who showed up at the barbecue last month, what was her name? Raven? It’s about her, too. You see, back when I’d first met John, we were out at this bar—honestly, it was a _bit_ of a dive—and who should walk in but John Cougar Mellencamp. And, obviously, I caught his eye immediately.”

Moira paused as if waiting for Patrick to respond, but Patrick wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. “That must have been—exciting, for you,” he said.

“Well, I’d seen him around before; just casually, you see, but—that night, he was _very_ interested. But John, you know, he can be quite fragile; I had to make sure he knew that I was there with him, that I’d be _leaving_ with him,” Moira said, eyeing Patrick pointedly. Patrick _really_ wasn’t sure to say at this point, so he just nodded, and that seemed to be enough for Moira to continue. “You see, John might have been _nervous_ , if I hadn’t taken the time to thoroughly reassure him, and to be clear about my intentions. Is David clear about your intentions, Patrick?”

“Um,” Patrick said, fishing his keys out of his pocket and hitting the unlock button, even though they weren’t quite close enough to his car for it to do anything. “I—yes, I think he is,” Patrick said. “My intentions are—Mrs. Rose, I care about David a lot.”

“Well,” Moira said, “so long as he’s fully aware of the depth of your feelings, I suppose it will work out.” Patrick let out a sigh of relief when he finally saw his car light up and heard the _click_ of the locks. “And Raquelle,” Moira said icily, stopping suddenly several feet away from the car. Patrick stopped as well, but Moira just waved him on, so he went to open the car and look for Moira’s purse. “Did you make your intentions clear to her?”

“What?” Patrick asked, craning his neck back to look at Moira as he bent down to reach under the front passenger seat.

“Did Raquelle—” Moira sighed with frustration. “What are you _doing_?”

“I’m looking for—oh, there it is,” Patrick said, finally reaching the purse, which had been wedged deep underneath the seat. “Here you are, Mrs. Rose,” he said, handing her the purse.

“Oh, well—I suppose I can bring this in with me, although I went to great lengths to conceal it under the seat.”

Patrick took a very deep breath. “Alright, well, if that’s all, let’s head back?” he said as cheerfully as he could manage, and began quickly walking back towards the restaurant, jamming the lock button on his remote repeatedly until the car made that annoying beeping sound several times.

When they got back to the restaurant and Patrick slid into his seat, David gave him a questioning look. But Patrick just shook his head and muttered _later_. And although he’d been trying to break his habit of delaying difficult conversations, in this case, he hoped _later_ really would be _never_.

Moira was exceptionally pleasant towards Patrick during dinner. If it were anyone else, Patrick might have thought they were trying to smooth things over, or at least trying to temper a difficult conversation with kindness. But coming from Moira, he suspected that she was simply trying to drive the threat home: _treat David right, and I’ll treat you right_ , she seemed to be implying. 

Otherwise, the dinner was fine. It wasn’t interrupted by a surprise visit from any of Patrick _or_ David’s exes, which—probably should be a pretty low bar to set, but apparently wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility.

Both Moira and David insisted on dessert, although Patrick strongly suspected their motivations were different; while David simply couldn’t say no tiramisu, Moira seemed to want to stretch the dinner out as long as possible. Patrick would have thought she’d have exhausted every topic of conversation by now. She’d asked Patrick about the new products at Rose Apothecary (and pointedly ignored David every time he tried to answer for Patrick, even though that was really more his area). She’d prodded Johnny into asking Patrick questions about the business side of things, and asked pointedly if Patrick was keeping David in the loop about the store’s finances (which he most certainly was, thank you very much). She’d even asked him about baseball, which was...weird, because Moira seemed to know even less about baseball than David did.

As soon as the waitress dropped the cheque on the table, Moira stood up and grabbed David’s hand. “David, I believe that bodice boutique we passed on the way here requires closer examination.”

“Mom, the Blouse Barn closed, remember?”

“Nonsense. Surely our beaus can settle the bill?”

“Mom, what—”

“Well, this was delightful! Patrick, John; we’ll meet you both back at the vehicle posthaste.”

David gave Patrick an apologetic glance as Moira dragged him from the restaurant.

As Patrick reached for the cheque, Johnny made a half-hearted gesture of reaching towards it also. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s fine, Mr. Rose,” Patrick interrupted, then winced. He hadn’t meant to sound quite so terse. “Consider this a thank-you for planning this dinner, and for—um, for being so supportive of me and David.”

“Oh, well, you know, David is—he’s very—and you’ve been, well. You know,” Johnny said.

Patrick didn’t know, but he nodded anyway.

“And since last time we all had dinner together, at the barbecue—” Patrick cringed, but Johnny barrelled on with complete disregard to Patrick’s obvious discomfort. “—that, uh, didn’t go so well; so Moira and I, we thought it’d be nice to, um, try again.” Johnny laughed. “At least this time that girl didn’t show up; what was her name? Your ex-girlfriend, was it?”

“Rachel,” Patrick got out through gritted teeth.

“Oh yes, she seemed like a very nice young woman, but—you know, it reminds me of this one time, actually, when I’d just started dating Moira, and we were—well, things weren’t so different back then, and you know how it is, at the beginning of a relationship.” Johnny cleared his throat. Patrick nodded enthusiastically, part of him hoping that if he encouraged Johnny enough, this might be over more quickly.

“Moira and I,” Johnny continued, “we were out on a date; somewhere very classy, of course, and who should walk in but Eleanor, a woman I’d dated a few months earlier—well, not _dated_ , exactly, but we’d gone out a few times. Back in the day I was quite the ladies’ man.” At that Johnny _winked_ , and the wink came with a suggestive grin, which was—disturbing. But then his face settled into something more serious. “And in that moment, I made sure that Moira knew where she stood with me; that she knew I was there with her, not Eleanor.”

“Mr. Rose, did—did Mrs. Rose put you up to this?” Patrick asked weakly.

“No, I—put me up to what?” Johnny furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I was just—reminiscing, you know. Oh, to be young again.” Johnny got a wistful, faraway look in his eyes. “You know, it’s funny,” Johnny said. “I think Eleanor ended up leaving with John Cougar Mellencamp that night.”

Just then, the waitress returned with the cheque. Patrick put his debit card back in his wallet and scribbled a large tip on the receipt before signing.

When they got back to the motel, it took a moment to persuade Moira and Johnny to go inside without David, but with their combined efforts, Patrick and David eventually managed to get the car to themselves.

“I don’t know _what_ was up with my mom tonight.” David let out a large sigh as he slid into the passenger seat. David had been in the backseat with Johnny for the drive because Moira had insisted on riding shotgun; a new development, considering that she’d spend most of her life being driven around in the backseat. “And my dad, too, I guess; but mostly my mom. That was exhausting.”

Patrick wanted to agree, but that seemed rude; David’s parents were just trying to be a part of his life. They wanted to get to know Patrick better, and they wanted to look out for David’s best interests. David’s parents were trying to protect him, and Patrick could respect that, even if he was the person they were trying to protect David from.

“David.” Patrick reached out and squeezed David’s thigh. “It’s fine. Tonight was—nice.”

David raised his eyebrows incredulously. “You think my mom interrogating you about skincare products is _nice_!? You didn’t even know the answer to half her questions—and I know, I _know_ that you’ve been trying, just like I’ve been trying to learn all that tax stuff—but the eucalyptus under-eye serum is _not_ good for combination skin; my mom was _obviously_ just trying to embarrass you—”

“ _David_ ,” Patrick said gently, and he pulled David in for a kiss. “I don’t mind. If you’re annoyed with your parents, that’s fine, but you don’t have to be upset on my behalf. They love you, and I love—” Patrick cut himself off. He didn’t think David was ready to hear that just yet. “I care about you, so spending time with your family is—it’s important to me. _You’re_ important to me.”

David smiled wryly. “Well, let’s just hope that next time, my mom goes easy on you.” Patrick was going to respond with some witty retort; something about turning things around next time, and quizzing Moira about baseball statistics, maybe; but then David kissed him, and that seemed more important.

* * *

Business was slow the next day, so David and Patrick ended up hiding in the stockroom, doing some highly not-safe-for-work shopping on David’s phone.

“How about this one?” David asked.

“Is that—wait, _how_ much money does that cost?”

“That’s—not very expensive, comparatively.”

“Wow. I guess I just didn’t know how much—wait, that one’s way cheaper, what about that one?”

“That one’s made of materials that shouldn’t go anywhere near your body, much less _inside_ of it.”

“Because it’s incorrect?” Patrick smirked.

“Because it’s not _safe_. Sex toys aren’t regulated, some of them are...sketchy.”

“They’re not?” Patrick didn’t know that. He’d never thought about government regulation of sex toy safety before, but it made sense, in a way, that politicians and lawmakers wouldn’t exactly want to talk about—

“Patrick? I need you to focus, here.”

“Oh, sorry,” Patrick said, “I was just contemplating the fact that I might be putting weird sketchy plastic inside my body.”

“No, you won’t. I wouldn’t let you do that.”

“Well, then, I’m lucky to have you around.”

That got David to look up from his phone. He looked at Patrick in surprise, a small smile beginning to form just around the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he breathed, and then seemed to shake himself out of a daze. “How about this one?” he asked, holding the phone up for Patrick to look. “It vibrates, I don’t know if you’ll like that, but—we could find out?”

“It’s blue,” Patrick said.

“Well—the color doesn’t really matter,” David replied.

“The color doesn’t _matter_?” Patrick asked. “Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend!?”

They both laughed as they kissed. Unfortunately, their kiss was rudely interrupted moments later by a customer. Patrick went out to help them, and as soon as the customer left with a tote bag full of soap and candles, David emerged from the stockroom with a triumphant look on his face.

“I bought it,” he said.

“You didn’t have to do that, David. That’s—a lot of money.”

“Consider us even for when you bought me and my parents dinner the other night, then.”

“Dinner didn’t cost nearly two hundred dollars, David.”

“Okay, well, consider it a thank you for your being so, um, patient and understanding with my family, then.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out soon whether it’s a sufficient thank you or not,” Patrick said.

“Mmhm,” David agreed. “In three to five business days.”

Exactly five days later, while waiting on David’s caramel macchiato and his green tea at the Cafe Tropical, Patrick felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Upon checking it, he saw just a single text from David

 **David** : it’s here 🍆

* * *

Patrick was eager to try out his new toy, but for some reason, he didn’t want to try it on his own. Not that he was opposed to trying new things out by himself; on the contrary, before he’d even started dating David, Patrick had spent a lot of time by himself just fantasizing and—well—figuring things out. And that had continued after they’d started dating, with David’s wholehearted blessing and encouragement (Patrick was especially fond of the encouragement). But this time, he wanted this to be something that he and David could try together.

So Patrick carefully unpacked the toy, washed it, charged it... and then buried it at the back of his underwear drawer where Ray was unlikely to go digging around, and tried not to think about it too often. 

Eight days passed before Patrick was able to get rid of Ray for an evening again. An entire week, plus a day; it seemed like _forever_. But finally, Ray had a local gallery opening for some of his photography, so Patrick and David had the house to themselves for a couple hours at least.

They wasted no time in taking their clothes off, but took their time otherwise. It was like this, sometimes—lazy, naked makeouts—and Patrick loved it. But right now, he wasn’t really sure how to transition from _this_ to what they had planned. “Hey, remember that really expensive vibrator you bought me?” just didn’t seem to fit the mood.

Thankfully, Patrick didn’t have to bring it up, because David did it first.

“So, have you, um… tried it yet?”

Patrick didn’t have to ask what “it” was. “No, I—I wanted to wait and try it with you.”

David furrowed his eyebrows. “I mean, that’s very—um—romantic? But I feel like it might actually be a better idea if you try it on your own first.”

“I thought about that, but—I trust you. I know you’re not going to… pressure me, or be upset if I don’t like it. Besides, it’s not like it’s totally new. We already know I like...” Patrick trailed off.

David grinned. “You like being fucked, you mean.”

“I—yeah. I like it a lot.” Patrick went over to the dresser and began digging around in his underwear drawer; it was kind of a mess in there, but eventually he found it, along with a bottle of lube. “Alright,” Patrick said matter-of-factly, handing both items to David. “Have your way with me.” He laid down on his back and spread his legs in a parody of a seductive pose.

“I know you’re teasing me, but—that’s actually kind of hot?” David said, pouring some lube into his hands. “Like, _really_ hot, actually.”

“Which part, you having your way with me? Or me telling you to?”

“Both, I think. I like you telling me you want me to make you feel good.”

“Well, then. I guess you should get to work.”

David worked Patrick open like he usually did—carefully and deliberately, until Patrick was grinding against David’s hand and begging for more. But David didn’t _give_ him more, so Patrick reached down to stroke his dripping cock and try to at least get some relief. But David batted his hand away. “Uh-uh, let me,” David said, replacing Patrick’s hand with his own. 

“David, I— _unf_ ,” Patrick said, writhing as David stroked him. “I need— _moreanything_.”

“Mkay, well, how about more vibratey?” 

“Yeah, that’s—fuck, yeah. Let’s try it.”

It only took David a moment to grab the toy and push it inside of Patrick. It wasn’t large at all; a little smaller than David’s fingers had been, and smoother, too, so it went in easily.

“How’s that?”

“It’s—” Patrick wriggled his hips. “Different?” 

“Different good, or different bad?” David moved the vibrator in slow, shallow thrusts, which Patrick was grateful for; it gave him time to get accustomed to the new sensation of smooth, unyielding plastic, which felt nothing like David’s fingers or cock.

“Not sure yet,” Patrick said. “It’s—it’s good, though. You can—harder? Or—” Patrick tilted his hips up, trying to get the angle just right. “Yeah, right there—I think?—”

“Oh, you want me to change the angle? Alright.” David said smugly, which gave Patrick a little thrill, because when David sounded like that, it usually meant something good was coming, and—

“ _Oh_.” Patrick’s voice wavered. “That’s— _fuck_.” It felt like the vibrator was exactly the right shape to target his prostate, which… of course it was; that was the _point_ , for it to—

“Can I turn it on?”

It took Patrick a moment to remember what David was talking about. “Okay, yeah, I think I can handle that,” he managed to get out between labored breaths. “Start with the lowest setting?”

“We don’t—I don’t have to, if it’s too much,” David said reassuringly. “I can just keep doing you like this.” David thrust into Patrick a little harder, as if to emphasize just what it was doing to Patrick, and _fuck_ , that was— _really_ good.

“No, I—I wanna try it, David; I want you to—do it,” he gasped.

“Alright,” David said, and then he turned it on.

At first it just felt weird. But Patrick didn’t let that deter him, because weird wasn’t bad; weird was just—well, weird. Weird was neutral. Then David thrust into him again, and the vibrator rubbed _right_ against that spot inside him, and Patrick nearly lost his mind.

“Are you okay?” he heard David asking from what sounded like very far away, but that couldn’t be right, because David was right there. David was right next to him, fucking him with a vibrator, because Patrick could hear the faint buzzing in the background, and he was pretty sure the buzzing was really there, and not just his brain buzzing from the intense pleasure building inside him.

“Mhm, I’m—oh god, David, don’t stop,” Patrick begged, “please don’t stop, that’s—”

“Yeah, yeah; I’ve got you, Patrick,” David replied, “I’ve got you.” David didn’t stop, but he didn’t speed up, either; he kept that nice, gentle pace, all while the vibrations did things to Patrick that were not at all gentle.

At some point, Patrick realized he was holding his cock; he didn’t remember when he’d started touching himself again. He didn’t start stroking himself, though; he didn’t want this to be over too quickly.

“Mkay, I’m going to change up the settings a bit—is that alright?”

“Uh, sure,” Patrick laughed, “this feels pretty good as is, though.”

“I can always change it back,” David reassured him, and then the vibrations got stronger, but they also started _pulsing_ , ramping up and then dropping off just as it started to become overwhelming. It was almost enough to push Patrick over the edge, so he took his hand off his cock entirely. He fidgeted, jerking his hips slightly, not really sure whether he was trying to seek out more of what David was doing to him, or get away from it. 

“Mm, you like that one, don’t you?” David asked. 

“It’s—I— _David_ ,” Patrick babbled. He felt overwhelmed. Patrick had never been able to come without touching his cock, and he wasn’t even sure if it could happen now; but he was right on that edge, that moment before an orgasm where everything feels like too much and not enough all at once. Except instead of a moment, this felt like it could last forever.

And that thought— _this could last forever_ —was what made Patrick snap.

“David, I need you to—I need—” Patrick reached out with shaking hands to grasp at David’s arms, trying to get him to pull the vibrator out.

“Oh, I’ll—I’m sorry, just let me—” David turned the vibrator off and pulled it out of Patrick as quickly as he could, which wasn’t quickly enough, as far as Patrick was concerned.

“ _David_ ,” Patrick pleaded. Why couldn’t David just read his mind? 

“Are you okay?” David asked with concern, taking Patrick’s face in his hands. But Patrick had no patience for David’s concern. He needed David inside him, _now_.

“I need you to _fuck me_ ,” Patrick growled. 

“Oh. _Oh_. Let me—” David stumbled out of bed and over to the nightstand. Patrick rolled over to rest on his hands and knees, and listened impatiently to the sound of David digging through the nightstand drawer for a condom.

“Hurry _up_ , David,” Patrick whined, not caring in the least how desperate he sounded. “I need—”

“Shh, I know what you need.” David climbed back on the bed and ran a hand up Patrick’s back soothingly as he got situated behind Patrick, but Patrick was not soothed.

“I don’t think you _do_ ,” Patrick said, his voice cracking with desperation. “I need—you can’t be gentle, David; I need it, I need you to—“

“You want me to fuck you hard, don’t you? You need to really _feel_ it; to feel my cock inside you, filling you up. Is that what you need?”

Patrick couldn’t quite get out a “yes” but he nodded vigorously and let out a whimper; he hoped that was enough. And it was—almost. David got his cock lined up with Patrick’s hole, and he pushed forward just a little bit—just enough to apply some pressure—and then he stopped. With a whimper, Patrick tried to push back onto David’s cock, but David stopped him with a firm hand against his ass.

“What’s wrong?” Patrick gasped.

“I—nothing’s wrong, I just—I want to hear you say it, too,” David confessed. “It’s so hot, Patrick. Can you—tell me _exactly_ what you want, say it for me—”

“David, I—fuck. I need you to fuck me, hard, I need your cock inside me, please, _please_ —”

Patrick cut off as David pushed inside him. The feeling of David’s cock penetrating him always left him a little breathless, but this time, he literally stopped breathing. 

“How is that? Are you—”

With a loud gasp, Patrick finally managed to take a breath. He took a few more deep breaths, trying to calm himself, but it wasn’t helping much; he felt unsteady, shaky; like at any moment he might lose complete control of both his mind and body. Maybe he already had.

“Yeah, that’s—yeah,” he managed.

“Okay. I’m just going to—” David thrust into Patrick, hard. Then he stopped. “Is that—”

Patrick _whined_. “Yeah, I need—”

“Is this what you need?” David thrust into him again, even harder.

“Yes, _yes_ , uh-huh, please—” Patrick continued to let out a litany of affirmations as David fucked him. Patrick wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt this out of control during sex before, this demanding; normally Patrick tried to keep his wits about him enough to at least make sure he could give David what he needed. But right now, Patrick was simply taking what David was giving him. David’s cock; David’s hands tightly gripping his hips; even the low grunts David let out with each thrust—all Patrick could do was take it all in. But most of all, Patrick was taking in the feeling of knowing, with complete certainty, that David could give him what he needed.

On some level, Patrick was dimly aware that they were being _really_ loud. Patrick was still talking, urging David on, although there were increasingly fewer words and more incoherent mumblings. Distantly, Patrick could hear the bed frame rattling against the wall in a way that, under different circumstances, might have made him worry about the bed’s structural integrity. 

Patrick reached one hand down to stroke his cock, and his other arm gave out under him. He let out a grunt as he fell face down onto the bed. 

“Here, let’s try this,” David said.

“Mm, no, don’t stop—” Patrick whined as David pulled out of him, but before Patrick knew what was happening, David rolled him over and pushed his legs apart so he could kneel between them.

“ _There_ we go.” David sounded very pleased with himself. “Now I can see you.”

“Okay, that’s—nice, but are you going to— _fuck_.” David wasted no time thrusting back into Patrick.

“Mmhm, I am going to _fuck_ ,” David said, punctuating with an especially hard thrust. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Are you gonna take it?”

“Yeah, I can—I can take it.”

“You look so good like this, Patrick. You—” David stopped to catch his breath. “You take my cock so well.”

God, that kind of praise drove Patrick wild. He wanted to—to be good, for David; he wanted to feel as much of David inside him as possible. Patrick grabbed his thighs and lifted his legs up, trying to see if he could take David even deeper, but David reached out and batted one of his hands away.

“Mm, no, let me do that. Can you touch yourself?”

Oh, right; that’s what Patrick had been trying to do just a minute ago, before David flipped him over. Patrick grabbed his cock and began stroking; it was hard to keep a steady rhythm, because of how hard David was fucking him, but that didn’t matter, because he was already so close.

“I want to see you come, take it, make a mess for me—you’re so good, Patrick—”

“Yeah, so good—for you—” Patrick gasped as he was overtaken by waves of pleasure, spurting come all over his hand and stomach.

“Oh _fuck_ ”, David exclaimed, and with one final thrust, Patrick felt David’s body tense as he followed Patrick over the edge. A moment later, he felt the tension leave David’s body all at once as David collapsed on top of him.

“Oof,” Patrick muttered, “David, I can’t move. Or breathe.”

“Me neither,” David mumbled. “Came too hard.”

Patrick laughed, and he managed to get David to shift his weight just enough that he could breathe again. Patrick knew that in a moment they’d have to get out of bed and clean up before Ray came home, but for right now, he wanted to bask in the post-orgasmic glow and the comforting feeling of David’s weight on top of him.

* * *

The next morning, Patrick just barely managed to drag David out of bed and to the store on time. If he was being honest with himself, it had been just as much of a struggle to get _himself_ out of bed on time; he’d wanted to stay in bed, snuggled up next to David, or possibly...more than snuggling. It was overwhelming, how much he just wanted to be with David; to be near him, or touching him, all the time.

But it was a Tuesday, and that meant it was time for vendor pick-ups. And because Patrick had gone last week, this week it was David’s turn to go.

“But Alexis took the car to Elmdale today!”

“David, you can just take my car. In fact, you _usually_ take my car.”

“Fine,” David grumbled. “I’ll see if Stevie wants to come with me.”

Stevie wouldn’t be joining David, obviously; she didn’t work at Rose Apothecary, and she had things to do at the motel. But Patrick still understood why David didn’t want to go; James, their twig pencils vendor, was an incessant talker. What should be a routine ten minute stop to pick up product often got stretched out into a forty-five minute or hour-long ordeal while James blathered on about literally nothing at all. Patrick had seen him interact with Stevie exactly once, when he’d stopped by the motel to try to convince Stevie to buy some twig pencils for the motel. Stevie was the only person Patrick had ever seen successfully stave off James’s looming storm of mindless small talk. She’d gotten him out of the motel in less than five minutes (four minutes and thirty-two seconds, to be exact—Patrick had timed it).

“You can do it,” Patrick said. “I believe in you. Maybe you can even beat Stevie’s record.”

“No one can beat Stevie’s record,” David grumbled as he walked out the door. “She’s an expert.”

The morning was a little busier than usual; several regular customers came through, as well as a few new faces, who Patrick figured must be visiting from one of the local Elms. Around noon, there was finally a lull, so Patrick ran over to the cafe to grab a sandwich, then came back and hid in the stockroom with his laptop, so that he could “get some work done” while eating, which actually meant opening up a spreadsheet and texting David while eating. Patrick had just finished the first half of his sandwich and was about to shoot a quick text off to ask David how things went with James when he heard the bell on the door ring. He peeked his head out of the stockroom, expecting to see a customer; but instead it was Stevie. Who, admittedly, _might_ be a customer, but Patrick wasn’t going to get his hopes up.

“Oh, hi Stevie,” he said, wiping his hands nervously on his jeans. Patrick hadn’t really seen Stevie since the barbecue, and—that hadn’t occurred to him until just now. That maybe she was someone he needed to clear the air with, too. “David isn’t—he’s out visiting vendors right now, but he’ll probably be back in an hour or two—”

“Oh, I know David isn’t here,” Stevie said, leaning casually against the counter. “He’s been texting me all morning. Did you know James decided to switch mayonnaise brands? Apparently Kraft is superior to Hellman’s because it has just a _hint_ of garlic in it.”

“I—did not know,” Patrick said, wincing, “but somehow I’m not at all surprised to learn that.”

“Anyway, I’m actually here to talk to you, which is why I came now.”

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be—at the motel? I mean—you can do what you want, of course, it’s your motel, but—”

“Oh, I absolutely should be there. Johnny’s out, so I left Roland in charge. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d burned it down, by now.”

Patrick forced a laugh. “I’m sure it’s not _that_ bad—”

“Anyway, I’m not here to talk about Roland. I’m here to talk about David.”

Patrick nodded. “Yup, I figured.”

Stevie narrowed her eyes. “You _figured_?”

“Yeah, well—first it was Alexis, then Mrs. Rose; then Mr. Rose, which was pretty much just like Mrs. Rose, but somehow completely different?” Patrick shrugged. “It’s good, really. I’m glad to know that David’s family cares about him so much that you’re all looking out for him like this. Making sure I’m, you know, taking this seriously. My relationship with David, I mean. Because I am. I’m—serious. About him.”

Stevie’s eyebrows had been climbing steadily upward as he spoke. “You think I’m part of David’s _family_?”

“You’re his best friend,” Patrick said matter-of-factly.

“Considering how much time he spends with you, I think that title belongs to you, now.”

“That’s not—” Patrick winced. “I’m his boyfriend. That’s—different. And I’m really sorry; if you feel like I’ve been keeping David from you, I can—”

“Oh, so you’re ‘boyfriends’ again?”

“We—um—yeah. We are.” Patrick smiled. 

“So things are good, between you two.”

Patrick knew Stevie was talking about their relationship—about whether they’d talked about what had happened at the barbecue. But the first thought that popped into his head was how _good_ David had made him feel last night.

“It’s—” Patrick’s eyes grew wide, and he felt his face turning red. “Yeah, things are— _really_ good, I—”

“Oh god, I don’t need details—just—” Stevie took a step back and waved her hands out in front of her. “Here,” she said, grabbing some lip balm. “This is for making me think about— _that_.”

“You let us do _that_ in your bed!” Patrick said. “That’s no reason to steal product.”

“It’s not stealing if you owe me,” Stevie said, “and considering how hard it was for me to take care of David after what you put him through? You _definitely_ owe me.”

“You’re right,” Patrick said quickly. “You’re right, and I haven’t thanked you for that yet; and I need to. I know how upset he was, and I’m sure it was difficult for you, and I’m so grateful that you were there for him—”

“Please stop, I can’t handle this much genuine emotion. Like, seriously; I think I’m allergic to it.” Stevie scratched at the side of her head. Patrick couldn’t quite tell if she was joking or not.

“Okay. I don’t have to go on and on. I just need you to know that—I’m glad David has you in his life. And I’m sorry.”

Stevie sighed. “Honestly, I’m mostly just upset that I didn’t get to yell at you. I had it all planned out.”

“I mean, you could go through the script, if it’ll make you feel better; I probably deserve it.”

“No, you don’t,” Stevie said with disappointment. “It’s not the same if you know it’s coming.”

“Fair enough,” Patrick said with a sly smile. “I could always promise to give you another reason to yell at me, if it makes you feel better.”

“Oh my god, you’re awful.” Stevie turned to leave, but looked back over her shoulder just as she went through the door. “I have no idea what he sees in you.”

“Likewise,” Patrick replied, and Stevie rolled her eyes.

* * *

David returned about an hour later with a box of twig pencils and handmade paper. He dropped the box on the counter with a loud _thump_ and let out a long sigh.

“Go ahead, ask me how it went.” 

Patrick shoved his hands in his pockets and gladly took the bait. “Alright, how did it go?”

“Oh, it was _fine_ , just _great_! I learned so much the importance of using writing implements that are _unique_ and make a _statement_ , and the _science_ of _papermaking_ ; but most importantly, I am now an unwilling expert on _mayonnaise_. I don’t even _like_ mayonnaise!” David gesticulated wildly as he spoke, and Patrick almost got distracted for a moment, just watching David move his hands.

“Yeah, Stevie mentioned the mayonnaise,” Patrick said, forcing his attention back to David’s face, which actually didn’t help much, because David’s face was at least as distracting as his hands.

“When did you see Stevie?”

“Oh, she stopped by while you were out.”

David smiled knowingly. “Did she get more wine? I knew she’d like that new Riesling.”

“No, actually. She stopped by to talk to me.”

“Oh?” David looked nervous, which made sense; usually, when Patrick and Stevie got together without him, they ended up with something new to tease him about. “What—um—what did you talk about? Do I even want to know?”

“Do you remember when I told you Alexis talked to me?”

David gave a blank stare. “Alexis talks quite a bit, to a lot of people, including you; I think I need more context here.”

“When she—you know, she told me to talk to you. About our relationship.”

“Um. I had tried to _forget_ about that, actually.”

“Well—I didn’t tell you about this part, but—your parents kind of did the same thing.”

“Oh my god. Is that—oh, fuck, that’s why they were so weird when we all went out to dinner, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. So today, Stevie—”

“I get it, I get it; you don’t have to explain.” David closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Patrick could tell he was upset, and trying to calm himself down, so he waited patiently until David spoke again.

“I am _so_ sorry that my—that everyone is harassing you like this. I can tell them to stop, but I can’t promise they’ll _listen_ to me, so—”

“No, no, it’s not a problem, really,” Patrick interrupted before David could spiral too far out of control. “I’m glad your family cares about you.”

“Stevie’s not family.”

“You know, funny story—that’s what she said, too. And I’m going to tell you what I told her: she’s your best friend. That’s the same thing.”

“Mm, well, if she keeps _harassing_ my boyfriend, she might not be my best friend for much longer.”

David seemed really genuinely upset about all of this, but Patrick didn’t want him to be upset. David wasn’t the one being _harassed_ , as he’d called it; David was the one who was surrounded by people who loved him and cared about him and wanted to protect him.

“Hey. It’s okay. This isn’t a problem. This is—the opposite of a problem, really. Your family—and Stevie—they’re just looking out for you. They’re trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need them to protect me, though. Especially not from _you_.”

“David.” Patrick’s heart felt too big for his chest, so he moved closer to David, resting his hands on David’s hips, and that made him feel better. “Everyone needs someone to look after them, sometimes. Like you do for your family. I mean—you’ve told me about all those times you used to have to help Alexis when she got caught up in a bad situation, right? This is just like that.”

“Okay, this is _nothing_ like that, because nobody had to do an international wire transfer to—um—protect me from you.”

“As far as _you_ know,” Patrick said. 

“No, they definitely didn’t, because the bank in Elmdale can’t even do _domestic_ wire transfers, much less—”

Patrick knew it was rude to interrupt, but he couldn’t help himself; he cut David off with a kiss. Thankfully, David didn’t seem to mind.

“Wait, wait. This isn’t fair. Who’s going to protect _you_ from _me_?” David asked. 

“Ray, of course,” Patrick said, and leaned in for another kiss, but David shook his head and pushed him away.

“Mm-mm, nope; that’s—incorrect.”

“How about Roland, then?” Patrick suggested, trying to lean in for another kiss, only to be snubbed yet again.

“Oh my _god_ , you’re—that’s it, I’m done with you. I’m putting away these pencils.”

David continued griping about his family as they went into the stockroom to unpack the pencils and paper. But Patrick could tell he wasn’t upset anymore. He could see it in the way David moved as he reached up to the top shelf, with a little extra bounce and shimmy; the way his lips turned up slightly at the corners as he spoke; the way his eyes softened just a little bit every time he glanced over at Patrick. 

Seeing David like this made Patrick feel the same way; like he was full of too much happiness to keep it contained within himself, and it had to find a way out in his every movement, his every word. 

“David? You know, earlier—I was just joking about Ray or Roland protecting me, right?”

David glared at him. “I swear to god, Patrick, if you say you’re going to have _Twyla_ protect you—”

“How about we protect each other?”

David’s mouth twisted in that way it always did when he was trying not to smile. “I guess—that could work.”

“It _could_ work?”

David’s mouth spread wider, a genuine smile emerging. “Yeah. That could definitely work.”


End file.
